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somewhere—anywhere—far away. The woman had destroyed too many lives to go completely unpunished. To hope for more seemed greedy.
    But she wanted to control her own destiny, to determine who she associated with and who she did not. The rest of her feelings were too complex to put into words and, even if she could, she wouldn’t share them with the man standing next to her. She was loath to confide in anyone, especially him. Everything had gone downhill since the moment he’d ridden into her life.
    His hand slid along the mare’s neck toward her own clutching the reins. A hand toughened by work and the weather. A hand good with animals. A rancher’s hand.
    “My farm,” she blurted as her gaze jumped to his face. “I’d go back to my farm.”
    Her impossible request brought a pained look to his brow. She felt a similar pinch in hers. Unlike most of Dodge, this man didn’t have a heart of stone. But no matter how much he regretted what his cattle destroyed last year, he’d never hurt as deeply as she did.
    The instant he released her horse, she urged the mare toward town.
    She gritted her teeth when he appeared on his gray beside her. He might not be hardhearted but he was definitely bull-headed. Did he intend to shadow her all day?
    The heat of her fever flared again. So did her desire for privacy. She craned her neck in search of the Star. He couldn’t follow her into her room upstairs. Not without paying and, in her condition, she had nothing he’d want to buy. Oddly, her bedroom was her one sanctuary. She craved the tiny room’s solitude more than ever.
    The corridor of Dodge’s Front Street, crowded with livestock and wagons, thwarted her. Even those on foot experienced delays while weaving through the chaos. Her progress slowed to a crawl. Noah reined in his mount to match her pace.
    Determined to ignore him, she fixed her gaze on the street ahead.
    Crossing the fairway was the good Mrs. Dunne, who had refused her employment at the boarding house. Long in the face and round in the middle, Mrs. Dunne had informed Sadie she would be too much of a distraction in her establishment. Even though Mrs. Dunne could use help with the cooking and cleaning for her many guests, she said she wouldn’t hire a young, unmarried woman such as Sadie.
    The portly well-dressed banker, George Fairfax, strolled along the boardwalk with the measured stride of a contented man. When Sadie had approached him searching for work, she’d surprised him with her mastery of reading and writing, and a natural inclination to summing. He’d still insisted a woman’s place was at home, with her husband, not in his bank. He wouldn’t hire her either.
    Everyone she’d approached had refused to help, first when she’d inquired politely and again when she’d returned to beg. In the end, her efforts hadn’t mattered. It’d been an illusion to believe she controlled her own destiny.
    Her father had put an end to her quest to find honest work when he sold her for eighty silver dollars. She recalled the dazzling orbs sliding through his fingers, shining so brightly they hurt her eyes. That was the last time she’d seen him, head bent, counting the coins to make sure he hadn’t been cheated.
    She might not be able to trust anyone, but she couldn’t give up either. The heirlooms Gertie had pilfered—Sadie’s ticket out of Dodge—couldn’t stay hidden forever.
    She stole a glance left, then right. Noah no longer rode beside her while down the street, the Northern Star’s faded green balcony beckoned. She exhaled a sigh of relief laced with an annoying amount of disappointment.
    Be careful, she warned herself. You can’t afford to become dependent on Noah Ballantyne or anyone else. With her attention set on the Star, she counted the strides it’d take the mare to reach the swinging half-doors.
    The buggy lurched to a halt. She half expected to see Noah’s firm grip on her rein, trying to take control of her life again. She found a